Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 120 Militia and Warhorses

After truly understanding the powers and responsibilities of the stationed officers, Winters was astonished to find that in the small town of Wolftown, the stationed officers wielded virtually limitless power.

In the Republic of Venetia, the ruthless bureaucracy abhors any growth of military ambitions and guards against any potential military interference in politics, especially prohibiting any military personnel from having both military and political power in local areas.

However, in Langtun Town, Zhevodan County, Republic of Palatour, all matters involving violence, including militia, public security, anti-smuggling, territorial defense, and corvée labor, were under the jurisdiction of the stationed military officer.

Furthermore, there is no subordinate relationship between the resident official and the town mayor. Their jurisdictions overlap to some extent, but their positions are independent. The resident official has absolute decision-making power over the matters under his/her responsibility.

So in a small place like Wolftown, theoretically no one can control Winters.

Only the newly established headquarters in the county capital could give him orders, but that place was at least 150 kilometers away from Wolf Town.

In other words... stationing military officers in this small town is practically like having half a local tyrant!

The power of the Paratul officers in the localities—or rather, the power of the Paratul military in the localities—left the young Venetians speechless.

Shocked as he was, Winters wasn't particularly concerned about the development of the grassroots political ecosystem in the Republic of Palatul. He figured he'd go home sooner or later; he was just being temporarily placed in this position.

But as long as I'm still in office, I have to do a good job.

……

"See that? Just throw it like that. Use your core strength! When you release the spear, the tip should be slightly upward, otherwise it won't go far."

In the threshing ground of Hedong Village in Wolf Town, Lieutenant Winters Montagne was demonstrating with a hastily made javelin. Several other javelins lay crookedly on the target not far away, ones he had just thrown.

All the adult men in the village gathered around Lieutenant Montagne, watching him demonstrate his spear-throwing skills.

The women sat chatting and laughing by the threshing floor, working and watching the commotion. Snotty-nosed children ran and played, imitating the adults by throwing sticks.

The threshing ground in Hedong Village was bustling with activity, like a festive gathering, without a trace of the tension one would expect.

Winters initially disliked the presence of women and children, considering it a disturbance. However, he soon discovered that it was also a very effective motivator.

"Practice hard, all of you!" Winters said deliberately to the militiamen. "The ladies are watching. If you embarrass yourselves here, how will you have the face to climb into bed tonight?"

Upon hearing this, the young men from Hedong Village who were taking turns practicing spear throwing blushed, eager to outdo the others.

Winters wasn't satisfied with the Wolftown militia, as they were far inferior to the regular hundred-man squads he had led. But the farmers weren't professional soldiers, and it was good enough that they even bothered to participate in training.

Winters corrected the militiamen's mistakes while admonishing them: "Remember, don't stand in front, don't throw at their heads. Turn to the sides and back, and throw spears at the stomach, where there's no bone protection!"

Judging from the size of the claw marks, expecting to kill such a huge beast with a single blow was pure wishful thinking.

According to the advice of hunter Ralph, if wild animals attack a village, the best way is to drive them away with fire and noise; the second best way is to exhaust them until they are exhausted and covered in wounds before killing them.

Therefore, Winters deliberately added barbs to these hastily made javelins, so that once they bit into flesh, they would tear off a large chunk of blood and flesh when pulled out. A rope was also tied to the shaft for dragging and securing.

Some farm women spontaneously collected some blue cardamom, commonly known as "rat arsenic," from the fields and gave it to Winters, saying that boiling it in water and then applying it to the javelin would be effective.

However, Winters was quite skeptical about the effectiveness of applying the poison.

Although the blue berries are poisonous when ingested, it's unknown whether they retain their toxicity once ingested, and whether they can subdue large wild beasts is also questionable. But whether it's good or bad doesn't really matter, so Winters let them be.

"The officers trained by the old marshal are truly exceptional! They do everything exceptionally well." Girard watched Winters organize the militia and forge spears with great enthusiasm, and went around telling everyone, "Lieutenant Montagne's appointment as the garrison commander of Wolf's Village is truly a blessing from the Lord!"

Under Winters's coordination, militia teams were organized in all five villages under the jurisdiction of Langtun Town.

The farmers were warned to guard their doors at night and to make noise if there was any alarm, so that the village militia could gather to rescue them.

Winters also borrowed some dogs from two villages that were far from the woods and distributed them to the villagers whose houses were closer to the woods.

The problem that is giving Winters a major headache right now is the lack of weapons.

The villages east and west of the river are in better condition; at least the villagers still have some bows and arrows.

But the two Protestant villages were practically unarmed. They had no swords, spears, or even a decent bow; the villagers had to use pitchforks as spears.

If the Protestants were to rely on pitchforks to deal with the owner of that claw mark, they would have to be fearless and ruthless.

On the other hand, if farmers had the courage to fight to the death, why would Winters have bothered to make this batch of javelins?
Just grab a spear and stab! As long as you're still made of flesh and blood, what can't you kill?

In reality, the militiamen could barely manage to shoot arrows from a distance; but when a wild beast pounced on them, they would only be chased and run away.

Because he knew that ordinary people didn't have the courage to fight wild beasts hand-to-hand, Winters trained his militia to use javelins—the hunting tools of the ancient people.

What troubled Winters even more was the undisguised hostility emanating from the two Protestant villages.

To be honest, Winters didn’t even realize that Wolftown had two Protestant villages under its jurisdiction until Girard mentioned them.

The Protestants neither attended Sunday worship nor had much interaction with the other three villages.

In Winters' view, Wolftown was already remote and isolated enough, but in Wolftown, on the edge of the civilized world, the Protestants banded together to form an even more closed and isolated small group.

In several other villages, Mayor Girard simply read out the letter of appointment once, and that was it. The villagers readily accepted the new resident official.

In those two Protestant villages, every literate person read Winters's letter of appointment, yet the villagers still looked at Winters Montagne with suspicion.

What annoyed Winters even more was that the Protestants didn't seem to believe the warning of the "wolf plague" or take his orders as the garrison commander seriously.

Few able-bodied men came to the training, and those who did were only going through the motions. Some Protestant villagers even whispered to Winters, "The wolf plague is just a pretext for the mayor to increase the number of laborers; he's trying to extort us."

His behavior, resembling that of someone with paranoia, infuriated Winters. Gerard, on the other hand, was already used to it and even offered some words of advice to Lieutenant Montagne.

But neither Mayor Mitchell nor the resident official in Montagne could do anything about these stubborn Protestants.

But ironically, those two Protestant villages were the closest to the edge of the forest.

Therefore, Winters gets a splitting headache whenever he thinks of those two Protestant villages.

The only place that gave Montagne's resident official peace of mind was the village of Dussac, a cluster of villages in Dussac.

Hearing that a large wild beast was lurking in the forest, the men of Dusa Village excitedly began preparing their knives and guns.

Unlike the villages east and west of the river, as well as the two Protestant villages, every household in the Dusaks village had weapons.

The sabers were hanging on the wall, and the spears were leaning against the barn; these were just the most basic things.

Even the village of Dusa still has over twenty matchlock guns, some new and some old. The new ones were bought in recent years for hunting, while the oldest matchlock guns date back to the Sovereignty War.

Every household in Dusa village raises horses, and the men's riding skills are honed from childhood; even Winters' horsemanship cannot compare to theirs.

Hearing that a wolf plague was coming, the old men were once again brought out to teach the young men how to use spears and sabers.

The idle and energetic young Dussacs suddenly had something to do, and their fighting, gambling and other troublesome activities decreased significantly.

Sergei said smugly to Winters, "Sir, can you rely on those peasants in a situation like this? You have to rely on us, Dusak! No matter what comes, with us here, we'll take them all down!"

Since Winters had such a group of valiant Dussacs at his disposal, there was no reason not to make use of them.

Therefore, Winters ordered beacon towers to be erected on the high ground of each of the five villages. When a village was attacked, the beacon would be used to warn of the attack, and the riders of Dusa would immediately gather to provide support.

With the beacon tower in place, the villages on both sides of the river were quite happy. But judging from the suspicious expressions of the Protestant villagers, Winters couldn't help but think that even if wild beasts came, the Protestants probably wouldn't ask Dussacs for help.

In addition, more than a dozen plantation owners in Wolftown, including the Mitchell family, generously donated to cover the cost of purchasing the javelins.

In addition to inspecting various villages and supervising training in the past few days, Winters has also accompanied Ralph into the forest several times to search for traces of the wild beast.

The overwhelming amount of work weighed on Winters, leaving him exhausted.

But being busy also alleviated the depression of having his fate manipulated by others—after all, having things to do meant he didn't have the energy to think about how to get back to Veneta.

However, Winters put everything else aside that morning; he had something very important to do: he wanted to buy a horse.

In the sparsely populated Palatour New Reclamation Area, horses are a necessity; it is inconvenient to go anywhere without a mount.

Lieutenant Winters Montagne is now eating and living at the Girard's house. Although Girard Mitchell doesn't mind, Winters is really embarrassed to continue using Mitchell's horses.

So Winters really wanted to buy a horse.

Not only for transportation, he also had a dark idea: if he had a horse, he could escape directly back to Veneta.

But he couldn't afford it.

"Poor Lieutenant" is not just a self-deprecating term used by officers. Being an officer is a costly profession, as uniforms, horses, and weapons all have to be purchased by the officers themselves.

Although Palatour's salary and benefits seem to be slightly better than Veneta's, it's already good enough for a lieutenant to have enough to eat and live on.

Want to buy a horse?

You can think about it.

Therefore, if an officer in this era did not come from a wealthy family, he would be better off finding a wealthy father-in-law. Although there might be a hint of overconfidence, Winters still felt that Gerard Mitchell would be more than happy to marry his daughter to him.

Miss Mitchell blushed every time she saw Winters, and spoke to him in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz, making Winters feel very embarrassed.

The elegant and virtuous Mrs. Mitchell also seemed to have a good impression of Lieutenant Winters Montagne, who came from a harem.

Not to mention that old Sergei repeatedly asked Winters indirectly whether he was engaged.

Sergei doesn't have any daughters, so who else could he be asking for?

Winters insists he is already engaged and his fiancée is in Hailan.

But Sergei muttered to himself, "We're so far from Hailan, even if there's a marriage agreement, it might not count."

"It's so painful to be broke!"

During a sleepless night, Winters Montagne lamented this.

But he couldn't possibly borrow money from the Gerard Mitchells. On the contrary, the better the Mitchells treated Winters, the less he dared to owe them a favor.

In fact, Winters is already considering moving out of Mitchell's house when the time is right.

All things considered, Winters now only has three months' salary and... Anna's locket as his only precious metal.

Pure gold.

But the locket cannot be sold; if it were, Lady Navarre would surely tear Lieutenant Montagne apart.

"Being broke is so painful!"

During a sleepless night, Winters Montagne lamented once again.

In the end, it was Antonio's two cufflinks that saved the day.

Winters' family was very strict about money management, but he himself didn't have a strong concept of money because he never had any expenses while in military school.

So he didn't think much of the two cufflinks that Antonio had casually given him. He would wear them on important occasions, and he also brought them with him when he returned to Guido to receive his medal.

When people are pushed to the limit, they will hold on tightly to even the smallest hope.

Lieutenant Montagne, whose mind was preoccupied with money, looked at the two cufflinks his uncle had given him and suddenly had a bold idea.

After being examined by a blacksmith, Winters finally confirmed that the two cufflinks he had always thought were bronze... were indeed pure gold.

And the belt buckle my uncle gave me was also pure gold.

Even though they were thousands of miles apart, the elder's wisdom still filled Winters' empty pockets.

And so, the impoverished Lieutenant Montagne suddenly became wealthy. Though not a fortune, it was enough to buy a decent warhorse.

Buying toys makes him happy; men's happiness is that simple.

Warhorses, in a sense, are a kind of big toy.

Winters' pent-up frustration vanished, and he couldn't wait to ask Girard which family in Dusa village had warhorses ready for sale.

Although he was embarrassed to accept the Mitchell family's favors again, Girard couldn't escape their notice about buying warhorses.

Rather than deliberately avoiding suspicion, Winters felt it was better to openly ask Gerard Mitchell for help.

When Gerard's eldest son, Pierre, heard that Lieutenant Montagne was going to buy warhorses, he was also excited and wanted to go with him.

The public pastures of Dusa village are located on flat land south of the village and are unfenced. Untended alfalfa and rye grow freely here, and the meadows appear a beautiful creamy yellow from a distance.

Far to the south, some brown and black spots flickered as a herd of horses galloped toward a pond. A small figure bobbed up and down as if glued to the horse's back, gathering the horses together.

"Hook!" Pierre stood up in his saddle, waving excitedly towards the herd and shouting, "Angloo!"

The figure on horseback in the distance heard the shouts and waved his hat in response.

"Come here! Come here!"

The man on horseback in the distance put on his hat again and galloped toward Winters and the others.

“That’s Anglu, the horseman from Dusa village,” Girard said, pointing with his whip at the approaching rider. “Nobody knows the village horses better than him. Let him help you pick out a decent one!”

The horseman spurred his horse on, galloping swiftly, and soon approached the group.

Winters then noticed that the stable boy was very thin, and although his face was tanned dark, it still looked quite youthful.

"How come it's a child?" Winters was taken aback.

“Little Hook is sixteen now, isn’t he? He’s not a child anymore.” Girard said with a smile, “Don’t look down on him just because he’s young. He’s been managing the herd of horses all by himself for two years now, and he’s doing a great job.”

"Two years?" Winters was even more surprised: "So he became a horse groom at the age of fourteen?"

“Yes, that’s right.” Girard replied matter-of-factly.

"He's not from Dussa?"

Pierre immediately retorted, "Of course, Gou'er is from Dussa!"

Girard, however, understood Winters' meaning. He sighed and said, "Little Hook's father died of illness, so his family didn't receive any land. Hook's mother brought him to find his father, but she also died of illness not long after arriving at Wolf Village. The boy loves horses, so I let him work with Old Pick to manage the herd. Old Pick died in a drunken fall the year before last, but he's doing a pretty good job managing the herd by himself... Sigh, but he's finally reached the age where he should be eligible. When he comes back from his post, he'll be able to get land too."

In the time it took to say a few words, the horseman had already arrived beside them.

The young boy on horseback dismounted with a graceful tumble and ran towards Pierre. Pierre also dismounted, and the two happily played around, even wrestling.

After learning of Winters' purpose, "Hook" Anglu led a few men to approach the herd of horses that were drinking water.

Winters immediately took a liking to a magnificent blue horse, but the horseman shook his head: "Sir, that Trell Blue is a stallion of this herd. It has a terrible temper and can't be ridden."

Looking around, Winters spotted another black horse: "How about that black horse?"

Girard smiled, pursing his lips.

The young stable boy, still going through puberty, replied in a hoarse voice, "Sir, that's a marten. She was brought here for breeding, and she's expecting a foal next year. How can we sell her?"

The scene was quite awkward. Lieutenant Montagne, who came from the infantry department, encountered his weakness. At this moment, he missed his classmates Bad and Andrei very much.

Winters gave up thinking: "Anglu, then you pick one for me."

“Look! That ‘Rejk’ is quite good,” the young stable boy said, pointing to a reddish-brown horse.

Winters followed the horseman's gaze and saw the horse's ears perk up, looking over alertly. But by "Strong Luck" standards, the tan horse seemed a little short and small.

In fact, Lieutenant Montagne had only one criterion for judging horses—that is, they had to be good-looking.

Assuming good looks, being tall and strong is also a plus.

Looking at the brown horse, Winters hesitated and said, "Isn't that horse a little...small?"

Gerard and Anglou both laughed, while Pierre and Winters were somewhat puzzled.

Girard, who was over fifty years old, laughed so hard he could hardly breathe. He put his hands on his hips and said, "Lieutenant, we Dusa people don't judge warhorses by size, speed, or strength... we judge them by endurance. Only a horse that can run continuously is a good warhorse."

“That Rerik is only three years old, but its stamina is amazing,” Anglu added. “Small horses are agile and nimble, and they excel at hurdling. When it’s four, its stamina will definitely be even better, and then we can bring it back for breeding.”

The two men from Dussa, one old and one young, were asking Winters, who was also intrigued: "Would the horse owner be willing to sell?"

“As long as the weather is good, good horses will grow like crops in the field, one crop after another.” Girard laughed: “What’s wrong with selling them? I’ll talk to the horse owner for you.”

Since those who knew about horses all said so, Winters no longer hesitated. Girard took his son to talk to the horse owner about the price, leaving Winters at the ranch to chat with the young horse herder, Anglu.

Watching the horses grazing peacefully, Winters asked curiously, "By the way, how do you Dusa people name your horses?"

“The people of Dusa don’t name their horses; they just refer to them by their coat color,” the young horseman said with a big laugh, revealing more than a dozen teeth. “But we Dusa people have hundreds of words just to describe the color of a horse’s coat.”

The young horseman added, "Rejick refers to that kind of coat with reddish-brown fur and white spots on its forehead."

The deal was quickly finalized.

The horse owner readily offered a very good price.

Borrowing a saddle, Winters Montagne rode Réžek away from Wolf Town.

Thank you to all the readers who voted for the book before, especially Tianjingtou, Zuocangjishizhengyi, Buzhijiaosha, writersblock, Zhonghuajia de Huangtuzi, Shehuizhengyilaowang, Kunkun, Nishenghuoliduoduo, Dandingdehuiguo, and Lixiangsanxundemoudaishu for their votes. Thank you everyone.

(End of this chapter)